


ORDER TO GO.

by slyther_sins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anal Fingering, Baker Draco Malfoy, Blow Jobs, Coffee Shop Owner Harry Potter, Diagon Alley, H/D Food Fair 2018, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Has a Thing for Draco Malfoy's Long... Fingers, Light Slow Burn, M/M, Pining Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, Things Get Heated in the Pantry, butterbeer eclairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-13 20:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16025741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyther_sins/pseuds/slyther_sins
Summary: Draco Malfoy opens a new pâtisserie in Diagon Alley, his pastries and desserts are to die for. Harry is the coffee shop owner next door who wants to take Draco home for dessert. Ron is just there for the bread.- in which harry has a sweet tooth,but it isn't for anything on the menu.





	ORDER TO GO.

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[3](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit).
> 
> A HUGE thank you to my beta reader, @tdcatsblog . I cannot thank you enough for looking over my fic. You are just the greatest, and I appreciate all of your work. This was my very first fest, and you were my very first beta reader. As a result of this, I was nervous beyond comprehension about my story, but you were so nice and so helpful and just overall, encouraging. Your inputs, suggestions, and feedback helped me loads. I know I wasn't the easiest author to deal with - due to my constant panicking and unnecessary worrying of whether a certain part of the story was good, or if it was even enjoyable - and I know my fic wasn't the easiest to read through - it really wasn't - but you managed to do it, and I thank you so so much for your help. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank the mods for their help. They, as well, were so nice and helpful, but what I will eternally be grateful for was their extensions. I'd signed up for the fest months ago. I should've had it done by the very first deadline, but I did not and completely flipped when I saw the date nearing closer. But the mods gave me extension(s), and that helped me out so much. So a huge thank you to them: not only for hosting and creating this amazing fest - which I know will have incredible entries - but for the well-need extension. Thank you for all of your hard work.
> 
> EDIT: Any errors that you may have seen in the story while it was still anonymous were made by me. Since the stories for this fest have been revealed and I can go back and edit, I will be fixing them. Hope they weren't too much of a problem as you read this fic, and that you enjoyed the story nonetheless!
> 
> \- Teia

**―THE ‘KNEAD FOR SWEETS’ BAKERY SAT ON THE EDGE OF DIAGON ALLEY,** but one wouldn’t have simply known that from the sight of the multitude and lines of customers that continued to pour in and out of it on a daily basis,  crowding the passageway(s) and bringing the street alive with their constant buzz of chatter as they waited to get their hands on one of the creations from the well-known paisterrie. Harry himself would’ve been amongst those who complained about the long lines, for anyone was to barely able get through to the other shop doors ― especially during rush hour ― but the lines often brought in good business for him, so he didn’t. Instead, when he opened up his coffee shop/open bar within the mid-early hours of morning, severals crowds took notice and entered through the door, Harry greeted them as if they were regulars; giving a bright smile before rushing behind the counter and beginning on their orders. Being situated right beside this popular bakery, Harry’s mornings were not only filled with strong brews of coffee beans and mochas of his own shop, but also with powdered and baked sweets of the shop next door.

Rather than going into the Auror Department as everyone expected of him **―** and even despite dreaming of it constantly when he was younger in his Hogwarts years **―** after the war, Harry took the route of a quiet life: deciding that, more than anything, he needed time to think and to gather himself before stepping back out into the face of the public. So, for the first two months following the war, Harry lived in small little place similar to Shell Cottage with Hermione; taking comfort in the shadows of his bedroom upstairs, only leaving his room when he heard the pitter patter of the rain atop the roof and read a lengthy book by the window, or if it was to eat — enjoying the occasional visits from Ron, whenever he stopped by and wasn’t up at the Ministry training for the Auror program.

This life was nice and it was peaceful, but Harry felt his stay was becoming heavily overdue. Days had turned into weeks, and weeks had begun to turn over into months.

The changes Harry had expected arrive within this time period never came. He knew that if he kept sitting around and blaming himself for all that, that nothing would ever change, and that this repeated cycle would never stop. So one sunny afternoon with nothing but a duffle-bag full of things in one hand, and his wand in the other, Harry left to find himself. Letters were sent after him, but not a single one got a reply. There was even a search, but Harry James Potter wasn’t found within the Wizarding World...which led to tears of joy when he came back the following year, unharmed and appearing much better than when he left off. Within his time away, Harry had grown a full beard, and his form had filled out a bit more, a sign he’d been keeping himself in shape, and had been fed well. Hermione, The Weasley family and some of Harry’s old school mates questioned him of of where he’d been, but Harry never let it spill that he traveled down to Muggle London in his year away, and even spent a while in Muggle America, befriending many.

Eventually, the questions turned onto his availability status. His relationship with Ginny ― if it could even be called that ― never resurfaced after their years at Hogwarts, and while he was a single as ever, when he returned, it was to find that she had begun a relationship with Dean and Seamus. Harry hadn’t been bitter upon finding this out, however. He was actually glad about it, if he were being honest. Harry would probably never have said this aloud to her, or to anyone, really, but things between him and Ginny had been rushed from the start, and to continue after the War would’ve been an absolute disaster, not only for himself but for the both of them. While both lost someone or something within the War, their means of coping would’ve clashed and there would’ve been endless nights of arguing ― and Harry simply wasn’t up to deal with that on a daily basis. Though, one good thing came out of it: the separation gave Harry the chance to understand himself a bit better.

Upon his year-long leave, Harry not only traveled widely, but he also took a trip on self-discovery. After severe long thinking and talking with those he met in similar situations, he finally came to the conclusion that he liked _both_ women and men. All of his relationships in the past had been with women, but despite that, Harry knew he was attracted to men as well—perhaps even a bit more than women. However, his thoughts soon turned over to his attractions to his friends who identified as nonbinary, and other gender identities. _He was bisexual,_ a Muggle friend had told him one day during lunch, and it perplexed him. Harry was happy there was a name for it, but he was unsure of how to react. He was unsure if he was supposed to keep this himself, whether this should be his official label, or if others would have somehow already known.

 Harry knew, from a young age, that he was in fact, not straight.

Growing up with the Dursleys, the only sexual orientation he’d known of was heterosexuality. There was no mention of homosexuality, and if so, it was only negative. Even if they hadn’t openly spoke about it, the Dursleys’ constant drilling into his head of how heterosexuality was the only ‘right’ and ‘acceptable’ sexual orientation would’ve sent the message to Harry’s young mind. Because of this, the year he returned to the wizarding world after his break, Harry was nervous about coming out to The Weasleys. He had attempted to stall in his apartment, constantly adjusting his sweater and tugging on its loose threads and despite the fear that had burned within his stomach, as his mind drifted off to that day, the outcome of it all never failed to bring a smile to Harry’s face. He could still vividly remember it.

Snapping out of his thoughts, and returning to the present, Harry grabbed ahold and twisted the knob on the machine before him. The machine hissed, a stream of freshly steamed milk sinking into the cup below. Harry added several shots of the requested flavor, quickly finishing off his current customer’s brewed-to-perfection order by cutting a small, but fitting design on the surface and dusting it with a slight sprinkle of cinnamon. Harry wrapped a napkin around the small, hot paper cup then he slid the drink over the marble counter with a small smile. “Here’s your order…”

“Janette.”

“Janette,” Harry repeated, laughing, then snapped his fingers. “I’m gonna remember it one day, I promise.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” She laughed and gave a small nod of her head, turning off and leaving. “Good day, Mr. Potter.”

Harry waved her off with a smile. With the other customers seated and already tended to, Harry went back to his original task: refilling the syrup pumps, and the stack of cups by the register. It wasn’t a hard job, Harry just didn’t want to run out of either in the middle of making a customer’s order. Placing the final stack of cups in the holder by the register, Harry cleaned his hands and turned back to the counter, satisfied.

“I see the place is busy again.”

Harry froze in his place, then started laughing. He could identify his best friend’s voice anywhere, despite the deepness that came with it during puberty. Ron had strolled into the shop while Harry had his back turned. _He was on his morning break,_ Harry noticed. Ron was still in his red Auror uniform.

“You’ve been catching large crowds lately, haven’t you?” He asked, looking up at Harry as he shrugged his jacket off.

Harry’s eyes flickered over the counter. The house was packed, not a single open table in sight. “I guess it is,” he said to Ron. His response was casual, but the grin that soon appeared betrayed him, and Ron gave him a knowing look―but didn’t say anything.

“How’s training been?” Harry asked, busying himself with making Ron’s usual order—an ice-cold foam cappuccino.

“Tiring,” Ron immediately replied. “Well, it isn’t all that bad as I’m makin’ it seem. It’s been fun for the most part - all that’s bad are the exams, surprise reviews, and practice stakeouts. Hey!” he said suddenly, “Get this: I once hid out in an alleyway for _twelve_ hours.”

“Okay…?”

“No, you don’t _get_ it. _Look,_ when I went to the alleyway that day, I crouched down behind the dumpster, thinking I could move later ― _like an idio_ t.” Harry stifled a laugh and Ron took this as a sign to continue. “But _no_. I couldn’t _leave_ because then I’d ‘blow my cover’ ― is what they said ― and wouldn’t complete the assigned task, so I sat crouched there for half a day; not a single crumb of food in my stomach, wearing my full uniform ― from the jacket to the boots to the _gloves,_ Harry ― and only running off of two hours of sleep. Then ― _then_ ― they’re gonna have the nerve to tell me it was for practice when I arrive at the meeting point that evening.” Ron smacked his hand on the counter, scowling. “Utter _bullshit―!_ ”

Harry laughed and shook his head. Deep inside, a part of him wished that he’d joined the Auror department―so that he could actually share these moments when Ron instead of _hearing_ about them―but the other part of him knew that his choice not to do so was for the best.

“Hey, did I tell you about the coffee incident that happened right before a meeting last week?” Harry shook his head and Ron continued. “Okay, so I’m standing by the cart, wishing that the meeting would’ve been canceled when…”

The rest of Ron’s story was blocked out as a figure walked by The Steam Room. Harry looked past Ron, his eyes trained on the window.

“―Mate?” Ron called out to him, but Harry didn’t even bat an eye. Ron tried again. “Harry!” He yelled, smacking his hand on the counter several times to draw his attention.

Said person flinched at the loud voice in his ear, and snapped out of his thoughts, blinking furiously as he returned to the present. Harry turned his eyes away from the passing figure and then to Ron, hoping in the back of his mind that Ron hadn’t noticed _him._ “Yeah?” It came out as confused but he wore a scowl.  _Ron couldn’t have waited a second longer to yell at him?_

Ron followed Harry’s previous gaze and sighed as his eyes fell onto the blond outside, watching as he disappeared. He turned from the window and lowered his voice, sounding a bit exasperated. “It’s _Malfoy_ again, _isn’t_ it?”

“Ron,” Harry began, already dreading the talk, “don’t even start it today.”

“Harry, I promise I won’t do that. Just tell me, was it him?”

Harry didn’t meet Ron’s eye as he said, “Yeah. Yeah, he just walked by.”

“I _knew_ it!” Harry heard as Ron pulled back one of the stools at the counter, and take a seat; the metal stool scooting against the vinyl tiled floor. “Alright,” Ron ran a tired hand over his face, seemingly taking a moment to gather the right words. “Look, Harry. _Why_ don’t you stop feeling sorry for yourself, and talk to him already?”

“ _Talk_ to him?” Harry scoffed, meeting his eye. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not. I mean, _really,_ Harry; it’s been a _month_ already, and you’re starting to get pathetic with all the staring. Hell,” Ron chuckled, nodding back towards the door, “I’m not surprised he hasn’t caught you already.”

“Oh, _I’m_ pathetic.” Harry snorted, sliding the now finished drink over to Ron who caught the glass in his hand. “Let’s not forget you when it came to Hermione, yeah?”

“That―” Ron’s cheeks were a blazing red, and he clenched his jaw. Harry held back his laughter. Ron’s mouth opened then closed and he let out a huff, deciding to not any words slip out, turning his attention on his drink. He stirred his draw and took a sip from drink, refusing to meet Harry’s eye. “―That was _different._ ”

“Yeah. It was _completely different,_ ” Harry replied with a roll of his eyes. “Plus, I _think_ he’d have confronted me by now if he noticed me staring.”

“Yeah. That or he doesn’t _care._ ”

“I don’t think he’d want to be watched all the time.”

“Yet, you _continue_ to do it. Why don’t you just go over to his shop? It would be the easiest way to talk to him. Find something in the shop you know a lot about, and strike a conversation with him.”

Harry eyed Ron. “You sure know a lot for a guy who struggled with his crush for about seven or so years.”

“You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who can’t even talk to his crush for seven or so minutes,” Ron retorted.

Harry glared at him. “Who struggled longer?”

“Who’s not getting anything, huh?”

“Shut the hell up―!”

“Ha! I win!”

“For once in your life,” Harry shot back.

Ron ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “If we weren’t so close, Harry, if we weren’t so close like brothers―!”

“―We’d have probably destroyed each other in another timeline,” Harry finished, and Ron burst out laughing.

“―Yeah, neither of us would be still standing at this point. But really,” Ron turned the conversation back onto Draco, “have you been to his shop? Harry didn’t answer. “You _haven’t_ been into Malfoy’s shop?”

Harry, who’d begun cleaning the counter at this point, threw the towel over his shoulder, sighing. “No, Ron, I’ve been over _plenty_ of times. In fact, I’ve been over there so many times that he’s fallen in love with me and we’re getting married next week. I’ve been acting odd to not give away our secret. Forbidden love, you know.”

“Be sure to send us invitations.”

“Will do.”

There was a pause and the two burst out laughing, their wild laughter floating throughout the room, and drawing a few odd looks from the customers.

“I should’ve expected that.”

“Well what else should I say to a dumb question like that?” Harry said, shoving his shoulder.

“Seriously though, do you even know where Malfoy’s shop is at?”

“Of course,” Harry told him, “...not.”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“He’s right next door!”

It was Harry’s turn to react. His eyes widened and he froze, all of his thoughts ceasing. His heart pounded violently in his chest and his mouth felt dry, but he couldn’t bring himself to care upon the realization that Draco was _right next door._ Harry’s question of where Draco would disappear to every morning after he passed the shop’s window, was finally answered. Harry swallowed, unsure if the news of Draco being so close was good or bad. “He _is?_ ” Harry asked Ron, his hands beginning to get clammy.

Harry tugged on the collar of his shirt, expelling the excess heat away from his body as his mind still struggled to comprehend.

“Yes!” Ron exclaimed with a laugh at his best friend. “His shop has been opened for a _month,_ and you’re just now realizing that he’s the _owner?_ ” Ron broke out into another laugh, clutching his stomach.

Harry scowled. “Well, as I’ve been told many times before in the past, I’m oblivious, so excuse _me_ for not realizing.” He grumbled, not really seeing how it was his fault. Taking his seat at the stool behind the counter, Harry took a moment to process the information. _Sure,_ he’d seen Draco walk by The Steam Room for weeks now, but he hadn’t actually thought it was to go into the building next to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Harry questioned, still in disbelief.

“I thought you already knew,” Ron told him, shrugging, but there was a funny gleam in his eye as he spoke. “I thought it was the reason why you watched him every morning.”

Harry felt his face heat, and he ducked his head to hide his growing blush. “It doesn't, and you _know_ that.” Wanting no more distractions, Harry reached under the counter, grabbing the rag and spray. He cast a wandless protection sheet around the entire counter, making sure the fumes wouldn’t spill into the shop from either side. He shook the cleaning can a few times before saying, “Do you know how hard it would be to talk to him?” Harry asked incredulously, still not getting how Ron didn’t understand his situation.

Ron had experienced it several times with Hermione in pre-phase of their relationship, and even encountered problems a few times talking to Viktor after the war ― when he came down to congratulate Hermione on her new promotion at the Ministry. It seemed, though, despite that all, Ron just couldn’t step forward and sympathize with his best friend.

“ _You_ might be able to talk to him,” Harry went on, “since you’re not even remotely attracted to him, but it’s different with _me.”_ Harry paused, “It’s still hard for me to believe you two even talk.”

Ron chuckled then tipped his head over the counter; smirking as he sat back. “I see that’s not the only hard thing…” Harry shoved him even further back, nearly causing Ron to fall out of his seat, but he grabbed onto the counter in time. Harry’s face burned a scarlet red and he was convinced that it was so bright that shop owners from across the street could spot it.

Ron wiped a tear from his eye, his laughter subsiding. “Alright, alright, fine. I’d have told you, honestly, but I thought you already made your _order._ ”

Harry met the comment with a scathing look, his bright green eyes narrowed into slits. “No, I _didn’t_ ,” Harry hissed back, noticing a nearby table beginning to eavesdrop on their conversation out the corner of his eye.

“You sure?” Ron continued his taunt. “I hear that a batch you like is _limited time only_. Might wanna get it before you _miss your chance._ ”

Harry gave Ron another harsh look, trying his best to not. “ _I’m not hungry,_ ” he bit out through clenched teeth.

Ron scoffed. “You’re practically _starving._ ”

Harry shot another glare over at Ron at the code word, who simply grinned in return.

It was no surprise to any of Harry’s friends that he had feelings for Draco and they had the nerve to bring it up every day, Ron being the worst of them all. Hermione would usually scold Ron and smack his arm as she attempted to muffle her laughter, before returning to whatever it was she was doing at the moment. Ginny would join him whenever she wasn’t at home with Dean and Seamus, ruffling up Harry’s hair before her round of endless teasing. Luna, _thank her,_ would simply smile and say how the two would make an odd, but good pair, and immediately go on about something else that happened that day, forcing the conversation to change.

Noticing Harry’s lack of response, Ron followed his gaze and looked over his own shoulder, landing on the older women sitting at the nearby table who continued to giggle at them from behind their cups and the fans in their hands.

“On your next break,” Ron whispered as he turned back, picking up his bag, taking his cup of coffee, and sliding out of the stool. “We’re going over there to visit, alright?” Ron headed for the exit. “And I know where you live if you try to go home instead!” Ron shot over his shoulder as his hand met the door handle, causing Harry to grumble under his breath as his plan to sneak out the back door and Apparate home came to a staggering halt.

“ _Trust_ me. You’re gonna be thankful for this in the future.” Ron left the shop without another word.

 _He was going over to see Malfoy._ Harry nodded in self-affirmation, looking up at the clock to see just how much time he had left. _He could do this. He could most definitely do this._

 

* * *

 

 **THE SWEET AROMA OF THE BAKED GOODS FILLED HARRY’S NOSE ALMOST INSTANTLY AS HE STEPPED THROUGH THE DOOR.** He inhaled deeply ― enjoying the faint smells of chocolate, fried dough, and powdered sugar ― then exhaled with a smile. The blend of scents surrounding was perfect, and it managed to capture everything the patisserie was.

Stepping inside the shop, Harry released his hold on the wooden door. The cheery ring of the silver bell above echoed as the door swung closed behind them. Harry, from the moment he walked up to the building, knew the place would have a classic design.  The sign, hung just barely below the roof, was midnight blue and cut into a perfect rectangle; elegant cursive written in gold lettering curled against the background. An identical print of the sign was stamped inside the window, visible to any passing customers walking down the sidewalk.

Harry and Ron took their place at the end of the long, steady line. Waiters, dressed in chiffon white, moved graciously around them; plates of silver in their hands. Balls of light levitated above the red-velvet draped tables and ruby-red booths. Walls of teal blue surrounded lace-curtained windows. Harry smiled to himself. Without a doubt, the design was Draco’s idea. This was only further confirmed when Harry saw the well-polished, sleek obsidian countertop; something like gold leaves buried within the surface of it.

The line moved forward. Harry continued to look around the shop.

The display racks were four rows long, not a single thing within a disappointment. Harry couldn’t remember the ones Ron had named off to him earlier, but Harry wouldn’t hesitate to eat a single one. The glass protecting it had steam covering up the full view of the treats, but Harry saw that some were glazed, and others were practically _dripping_ in chocolate.

 _“Welcome to Knead for Sweets. I’ll be with you momentarily!”_ A voice called out as a figure blew past him. Harry didn’t need to see the face to know who the head of white-blond hair belonged to.

_Draco._

He felt Ron elbow him, and he elbowed back in response, unable to stop the grin that appeared on his face. The line had quickly moved up from this point, and Harry felt another breeze fly by as they became the next customers at the counter.

“Let me guess, your _usual_ , Weasley?” The blond drawled playfully before turning around, arms folded across his apron covered chest as he stood behind the counter with a quirked up brow. “A dozen caramel fudge swirls is his usual, if you didn’t know,” he added to Harry, chuckling.

Harry wished he would have laughed along, but Draco’s laugh. _Merlin,_ Harry had _never_ heard a laugh quite like his. It didn’t help that Draco was the type to throw his head back and sprout a blush when he laughed either.

Draco’s features had softened since last time Harry had seen him.

His signature arched brow remained the same, but it was more playful. His hair was neither slicked nor was it ruffled; it was fluffy, and a curly fringe sat on his forehead. His skin had a permanent glow to it, only making him appear more attractive. His cheekbones that gotten sharper, his face had gained more detail and his smile... Harry had never seen him smile back in school, but this one moment made up for all those years.

“―The usual, Malfoy,” Harry heard Ron reply next to him.

“As always, this won’t take me longer than a minute.” Draco quickly whipped up Ron’s order and rang up the total, dropping the received coins into the old-fashioned register before him. “And for you…?"

“Harry,” Harry finished, with a small smile.

Draco nodded, smiling slightly. “Harry,” he echoed. “Alright then. What will it be for you, _Harry?”_

He blinked in response. “Oh, um, I didn’t exactly come here to…” A blush grew onto Harry’s cheeks as he trailed off, watching Draco’s expression slowly change.

“Oh. Well...alright then.”  

Anyone else would’ve taken Draco’s response and would have been fine with it, but Harry caught the frown that crossed his face ― the bite of his lips and the lingering glance he gave Harry before he turned away. Guilt began to burn in Harry’s chest. It wasn’t that he would’ve hated Draco’s food. No, Harry highly doubted that - the smells of the baked goods already had his mouth watering, and he hadn’t even had a bite. “Wait!” Harry blurted, and Draco’s shoes came to a squeaking halt as he stopped in his tracks. “I uh...I-I want to make an order.”

Harry quickly glanced up at the menu, trying to buy himself time. Everything listed was either in full French or words Harry didn’t recognize. He cursed under his breath then looked at Draco over the counter.

He stared back at him. “Let me know if you can’t read the menus,” Draco said, noticing Harry’s hesitation. A look of confusion had crossed over Harry’s face at this point, and deep a furrow settled within his brows. “I can make _other_ arrangements for your order.”

“I’d much rather you surprise me,” Harry said, tucking one hand in his pockets as the other gathered his money.

Draco cocked his head to the side. “Feeling a bit bold, aren’t you, Potter?” he teased with a chuckle. Harry met this response with a smirk and a simple shrug of his shoulders. Still smiling, Draco turned to his left. He placed his hand lightly on the shoulder of the bob-haired woman beside him. “Pansy, take care of the other customers for me, will you?”

“Of _course,_ Draco,” She turned to him, hair swinging behind her.  “So you know, I’m doing this because I _want,_ to, not because it’s practically my _job_ , and I’ll get fired if I don’t.”

Harry easily spotted the sarcasm in her words and held back the urge to laugh. It seemed Draco picked up on it as well ― his eyes flickered over to Harry, then back at Pansy. “Just get to work, Parkinson,” he muttered.

Pansy gave Draco a two-fingered salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”

 _Ron clearly had an influence on her,_ Harry thought, recognizing that salute as a signature of Ron’s.

“Potter.” He looked up. Pansy pointed at the further right of the counter. “He’ll be out in a minute. Might wanna wait over there.” Her voice didn’t shake, but Harry could sense her nervousness to talk to him. She wore a strange expression as she spoke, and didn’t meet his eye.

“Thanks...Parkinson.” Pansy gave a nod in response and turned off.

While Draco was gone, Pansy took over the register and the line of customers. Harry remained separated from the line as he waited for his special order.

“One day―” Pansy leered over the counter as she gathered up the current customer’s order. Harry would’ve said something in response had he not noticed Pansy’s eyes were on Ron as she spoke, watching him devour his bag of caramel swirls. “―You’re gonna come in with all of your teeth rotted out, and I’m just going to look at you and laugh because damn, you’re just a pathetic little man, Weasley.”

“By the looks of it, Parkinson, your teeth have already beat me to it,” Ron shot back, biting into another swirl.

Pansy’s dark eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to throw a surprise curse at Ron. The edges of her mouth twitched, and she broke out into a booming laugh. “You never fail to make me laugh, Weasley.”

”Same back you, Parkinson,” Ron managed through his own laugh.

 _How are you getting along with everybody?_ Harry mouthed over to Ron.

 _I’m just that good,_ Ron mouthed back, shrugging.

Harry heard a tap on the counter and came face to face with Pansy. She pointed at both of them. _You two are idiots, I can read your lips. Your friend isn't as charming as he's making himself seem around here, Potter. In fact, the very first day he showed up here, I tried to crack his skull with a scone. When that didn't work, I settled for a metal tray._

Harry rose a brow. He looked over at Ron, waiting for his response. 

Ron didn't meet either of their eyes. He averted his gaze onto the other side of the shop. "Wow, look at those curtains..." He trailed off, beginning to walk away towards one of the windows.

Harry shook his head, and heard Pansy join in his laughter.

Draco appeared through the aluminum doors a few minutes later with a white and red spotted box in his hand. He smirked at Harry as their eyes met, and Harry raised a brow in response. “ _Don’t_ ask questions. Now,” Draco beckoned him forward with a simple curl of his finger, “lean over the counter.” He lifted the lid, and a sweet scent rose out. “I have something for you.”

In the past, Harry wouldn’t have trusted those words, but today, he did it without a second thought.

“Now I haven’t a clue as to what you _are_ and _aren’t_ allergic to, and the last thing I need is for you, a customer, to have a reaction. So before I give this to you,” Harry heard Draco begin to peel off a soft, shiny wrapper from the bottom of whatever he was holding, “are you clear with anything containing raspberry or almonds?”

“Fine, as far as I know.”

Draco grinned. “Good. Now, come here. No, lean in a bit _more_ , Potter. I’m not going to bite.”

Harry closed his eyes and slowly did as requested. The first soft, but crunchy, bite immediately reminded Harry of treacle tart with a nice topping of vanilla ice cream and with an aftertaste of a honey, buttercream-like flavour towards the end. A second bite brought in a taste of raspberry and almonds, and Harry’s eyes could’ve rolled back once he caught the hint of powdered sugar mixed within.

“How did that taste?” Draco’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Harry could hear his excitement.

Harry’s reply came out as muffled. “This has to be the _best_ thing I’ve _ever_ eaten.”

Draco quirked up a brow in response, a challenging smirk forming along his lips. “Are you so sure about that, now? I bet there’s something _else_ that would taste much better.” Harry immediately choked upon hearing these words. His widened eyes flew up at Draco, who cleared his throat. “Because Weasley tells me that the treacle tart is a favorite of yours.”

Harry blinked in confusion. He had _clearly_ heard the suggestive tone in Draco’s voice. “I, uh...what else has Ron told you?” he asked after a moment, purposely not bringing up Draco’s previous response. He wanted to see if Draco’s act would falter.

“Oh, nothing much. Just that business has been going well at your shop for the past month.” He paused to look down at Harry, one of his brows raised in question. “Why? Would he have something _else_ to tell me?”

Harry shook his head, avoiding Draco’s eye. Harry been told several times that his face was easy to read, and it was clear Draco wasn't going to let his own act fall any time soon. “N-no. I don’t think so.” Harry coughed into his hand. “He shouldn’t have, _anyway._ ”

Draco nodded, but Harry felt he seemed only half-convinced. “Then alright. More?” Draco asked him, holding up the remainder of the puff in his hand. A minute passed. “Did you know that―give me a second.” Draco wiped a couple of crumbles off of Harry’s cheek, laughing. “Did you know that treacle tart is a favorite of mine as well?”

“It is?” Harry didn’t think he could fall for Draco harder, but he was being proved wrong once again.

Draco nodded. “Yes. But I _doubt_ it’s better than whatever you serve in your shop.”

 _“_ _Lies.”_ _  
_

“I can smell it on my walk here every morning. Now _that_ smells like heaven.”

“ _This_ is heaven,” Harry murmured.

“Speaking of your shop, tell me: how is it?”

“Insanely well, and I think _you’re_ the reason.”

Draco laughed. “How so?”

"Hm. Well, you’re next door to me and you hadn’t already known, your place is kind of a big deal.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Draco, if I could name all the people who have recommended me your shop, I could have enough money to buy every building in Diagon Alley.”

Draco gasped. “Is the place really that popular?”

“Yes, and it’s only going to get more known with more time.”

Harry could see Draco trying to cover up his face at those words. Was he crying, was he blushing? Harry wouldn’t have known from this. “Thanks, Potter,” Draco mumbled out. Harry frowned but started laughing once he caught sight of a tall-tale sign of a blush: the tips of Draco’s ears were bright pink.

Harry reached for Draco’s elbow, wanting to see his face. “You’re welcome, Malfoy.” Harry managed to finally pull Draco’s hand away and see his face. The blush on Draco’s face made him ― Harry couldn’t deny it if he wanted to ― utterly adorable, especially whenever he’d scrunch his nose in an attempt to bring about a scowl.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Harry said, referencing to Draco’s blush.

“I―I really appreciate it.” Draco chuckled and lowered his voice as he spoke to Harry. “I can’t _imagine_ how we look to someone else’s eye like this.” He leaned over to Harry. “Can you?”

“We probably look a bit tied up with one another,” Harry replied, meeting Draco’s eye.

“Would that necessarily be a bad thing?” Draco whispered, holding eye contact.

Harry felt himself move in closer. “Not if you didn’t care.”

This was his moment, Harry thought, watching how Draco’s eyes kept flickering down to his mouth. Harry was no longer within elbow reach, he was beyond that― to close, he could smell the spearmint lingering on Draco’s breath and even see the exact detail of Draco’s bright grey eyes. All Harry had to do was close his eyes and lean in, this was all he had to do and he would finally kiss Draco―

“Excuse me, Harry.” Draco whispered. Harry then heard him say, "Do you _mind,_ Parkinson?”

Harry grit his teeth. A moment he’d been looking forward to, had been plucking up the courage to do, was ruined with an onlooker. If Draco and Pansy weren’t friends, Harry could’ve choked her for ruining his and Draco’s almost kiss. Well, he’d probably wouldn’t have done that but he would’ve surely screamed or cursed a tree outside in anger.

“Not at _all.”_ Pansy held her chin in her hand as she leaned over the counter, waving a multi-ringed hand towards Draco, wearing a smug smile. “Go on, Malfoy. _Feed_ your _special_ little customer.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and grit his teeth. Harry knew that they were holding a silent conversation from a simple glance at them; he’d experienced it several times with Ron whenever Draco was the topic of the conversation. Harry watched as Draco fiercely mouthed something to Pansy. Pansy stood them for another good minute before shrugging and walking back out of view. “I cannot _handle_ her sometimes,” Draco muttered under his breath, then turned back to Harry.

Harry could relate to Draco’s current anger. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” Draco rolled his eyes, “She’s just _infuriating._ ”

“It looked like you were on good terms to me, earlier.”

Draco gave him a look. “We _are._ She’s my _best_ friend. It’s just at times,” Draco turned back at the counter. _“She isn’t as subtle as she thinks!”_

 _“Love you too, Draco!”_ She called over her shoulder, not even bothering to look back.

Draco shook his head. He faced back towards Harry. “ _Please_ forget that you heard any of that.”

“Forget _what?_ ” Harry asked, grinning.

“Forget-” Draco caught onto what Harry was doing. “That’s right. Forget _what?_ There’s _nothing_ to forget because _nothing_ happened.” Harry leaned down to Draco’s hand and took another bite of the puff. “Now this is on the house. But don’t tell Pansy that.” Draco frowned. “Or Millicent. Especially not Millicent. She’s in charge of financing and she would absolutely have my arse if she found out that I just gave away even this small bit of food for free.”

Harry frowned back in return. “But isn’t it your shop?”

“It is, but you have to remember―” he fed Harry more, moving in closer, “―I have to have help around here. I, _unfortunately_ , cannot run this place by myself, and I have to enlist help, which I’ve done with the ones that are still close to me, and that I still trust.”

Draco began to list them. “You already know Millicent’s job, which is financing―and I’ll go ahead and tell you that I am absolutely thankful for her work. Pansy stops by the shop daily. Her main job is at the register and placing out all of the goods, but she’ll occasionally come back to the kitchen and offer a hand with baking. Blaise ― he’s over in France with his mother, by the way ― and it’s because of that we decided to import and order things from there via him.”

He paused. “Oh, and Goyle - he also takes a part in baking. Not only does every coin made go towards everyone’s check, it goes out for everything needed. Not only that, but even the ingredients and things to make the shop more ‘alive’ and whatnot. We’re a recent place, we’re going to have to do a lot of we want to last longer.“

“That’s...wow.” Harry took the final bit of the puff, “That’s a lot.”

“Hope you didn’t think I set this place up on a whim, Potter.”

“I didn’t. I just think what you’re doing is, well, pretty incredible I know we’re kind of in the same business, but you’re doing a lot for a beginning shop and that’s pretty incredible. I mean, look at all you’ve done so far― and this is after a month’s worth.”

Draco smiled. “You’re an idiot, Harry Potter.” Draco bit his lip, then turned off. “I’ll ring up a dozen of these for you, if you’d like.”

Harry smiled. “I’d like it a lot.”

“Good.” Draco gestured over the counter and began to walk away. Harry took it as a sign to follow him. “I should visit over some time.”

“You should.”

Draco nodded, then said, “Call it a date.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. “What?”

He turned around, looking down at Harry. “As in, when would there be a good time to come over?” Draco clarified. “I want _you_ to call it.”

“Oh.” Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he thought it over. “Whenever you’re free, I guess.”

“In that case, I suppose it’ll be a long while before I can stop by.” Draco looked at him, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “I mean, we’re new, but we’re also extremely busy…” His eyes flickered back over the counter that had yet another line of customers.

“No need to tell me. I witness that on a daily basis. It’s fine.” Harry shrugged, “Don’t stress it.”

“Are you absolutely sure? I could have Pansy watch the counter while I head back with you―”

As much as Harry wanted to scream ‘yes’ he knew he couldn’t be so selfish. Draco needed to stay at the shop. “―I’m sure.” Draco looked like he was going to say more, but stopped―not a single word escaping from his mouth. He turned and moved past Harry towards the counter. He rang up twelve red pugs and handed them over to Harry.

Harry shuddered as he handed over the exact amount, feeling their hands brush.

“Well, uh, see you later, Draco.” It was a dumb way to end the conversation but Harry couldn't think of any other way - well, of one that wouldn’t embarrass him.

“See you later, Harry.” Draco lingered around a minute longer, simply staring back at Harry. Harry could’ve done this all day,  hit the remembered the customers and knew everyone still remembered their past relationship of being enemies.

Draco seemed to notice this too. He gave one last look at Harry, then smiled, disappearing back behind the aluminum doors.

Excluding the previous interruption, Harry would’ve thought of that moment shared with Draco was a dream. This would've been the part where he woke up, and reality hit him in the face. Well, he didn't need reality to hit him in the face because Ron tackled him the very second he walked outside. Harry stumbled then shoved him back, still holding onto his order.

“Harry, I saw you and him in the shop,” Ron sounded excited. He shook Harry’s shoulders. “What happened in there?”

Harry knew he could've told him the full truth, but he didn't. Harry reached into his bag and pulled out a puff, biting into it. “Private matters stay behind closed doors, Ron.”

 

* * *

 

 **“IT HAS BEEN WEEKS,”** Ron began as he took a seat at the counter/open bar a few weeks later on a bright and early morning, watching Harry as he dug into his breakfast. “And I haven’t seen that smile leave your face _since.”_ Harry’s cheeks merely colored in response, and he ducked his head. He pulled out a few more items and put them on plates, adding more food onto them as he listened to Ron talk on. “I haven’t even seen you go a _day_ without stopping by his place.”

Harry looked up and bit into another green apple square from one of his orders. “Your point?” He questioned.

“My _point_ ?” Ron laughed. “Harry, you have _three_ boxes of food ordered from there. It’d be one thing if it was for lunch or for dinner but it’s only _breakfast!_ ”

Harry soon joined him in laughter, seeing how ridiculous he might’ve looked both to Ron and to the people he walked past as he left the Knead For Sweets bakery at eight in the morning, with his arms full of to-go boxes. “Alright. So maybe I _might_ be spending more of my breaks visiting over there. So what?” Harry shrugged, “A whole bunch of other people do that too.”

“Yeah, but they don’t walk in and _joke_ around with the owner, and _they_ don’t have a _reserved_ table close to the back of the shop like _you_ do, Harry. Oh that, and they don’t fancy him as much as you do.” Ron added towards the end.

“And…?”

“ _And_ by the looks of your orders,” Ron’s eyes scanned over them, resisting the urge to snatch something and have a helping himself,  “I could say he fancies you too.”

“Maybe you should say the exact opposite.”

“Oh really?” Ron asked in a tone that reminded Harry oddly of Hermione. “What did you order for breakfast there?”

Harry eyed Ron with a suspicious look. “I didn’t know what to get, so I just asked him to pack whatever he’d think I’d like,” he replied.

Ron nodded. “Alright. Let me see your ticket.” Harry fished it from his back pocket and handed it over. Ron flipped it over, and began reading down the printed list. “So apparently, Malfoy thought you’d prefer a stack of walnut waffles, two bacon and egg crepes, a dozen apple squares, two large sticky buns, four slices of banana bread, a small bowl of yogurt, strawberry and granola, two large blueberry muffins, a turkey and swiss sub, eggs florentine, and four pumpkin scones for breakfast. Or was that just a _wild_ guess?”

“He _what―_ ?” Harry croaked out before promptly choking on his apple square. He couldn’t believe his ears. _There was no way Draco did that for him. This was breakfast, for a family of at least...well, Harry couldn’t think of it right now, but it certainly wasn’t for just one person. Especially not him._ Harry jumped out of his thoughts as he felt Ron give several hard thumps to his back. Harry coughed again. “Thanks.” Harry waited to get his breath back before asking, “He really put all of that into these boxes?” Ron nodded in response, and Harry began to properly look through each of the boxes, still in awe.

“Yeah, and just so you know,” Ron began as Harry lifted up a pumpkin scone, sniffed it, and bit into it, “when _I_ went over there and asked for breakfast, Malfoy only gave me six lemon squares, six red apple squares, and a ham and cheese croissant. So like I said earlier, he fancies you _as well._ ”

“He could’ve been in a bad mood that day, and a good mood today. Or maybe he mixed up orders, I think there was a person or two up at the counter beside me,” Harry told Ron, but couldn’t fight off his smile. _Draco had actually made this for him._ Harry looked around at his orders. _It must’ve took a lot of work to make it,_ Harry thought, seeing as how everything looked straight out of a restaurant magazine; the blends of spices and fruits created unlike anything else Harry had ever known to be made.

“Ron, I’m not going over to ask him out or anything.” Harry shook his head. The thought of asking Draco out terrified him, Gryffindor courage be damned. “I’m just not.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s because―” Harry stopped once he realized he couldn’t find an answer. “Well, when we were in school―” He began.

“―You said yourself a few months ago that it was all in the past,” Ron interjected. “Try again.”

“Well…” Harry trailed off. He frowned, he couldn’t really think of anything else. His entire argument would have relied on their Hogwarts years. It would’ve relied on the arguments and fights, the things spat out in anger and embarrassment ― the brewing hate between them. Without that, with several years having passed and with Draco returning back into his life as a somewhat changed, Harry really couldn’t complain about him. Sure, Draco’s usual drawl and snide remarks remained but they lacked the crudeness that held some years ago.

“―I’ll admit, it’s a bit weird when you first hear it but Harry,” Ron began once several minutes had passed without a response. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and steadied him, looking Harry in the eyes. “You’re mad about him. That can’t be denied.”

“I―”

 _“_ _It can’t be denied,”_ Ron repeated firmly, a hardness settling within his voice, similar to the one he often used in meetings and to diffuse altercations out in public. “I _see_ the way you look at him in the mornings. I _see_ how you look when you come back from the bakery, and even the look you make when he’s slightly mentioned in a conversation. You have this _stupid_ grin on your face, and it just won’t leave. Harry, _please-_ ” Ron pleaded, shaking Harry’s shoulders slightly. “If I’m sitting here and actually _pleading_ with you to talk to him, you know something’s up. If I’m actually sitting here and _encouraging_ you to ask the ex-prat out then that’s a sign. So,” Ron gave a shove to Harry’s shoulder and stepped back, “quit feeling sorry for yourself and ask him out already!”

Harry had listened to every word, taking them into heavy consideration. He eyed a section of the countertop; the thoughts of how things could end badly with Draco still playing in his head. “You really think I should?” He asked.

“Yes! I can practically see you putting a dent in the counter at the mere thought of him, every time I walk in here. And that’s from where I stand!”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, but a laugh still escaped out. “You’re only telling me to do so because he makes treats,” he mumbled, playing with the loose stands of his own shirt.

“No. I’m telling you to do so because you’re my best mate and I want you to be happy.” Ron cleared his throat, a grin appearing on his face. “Also, if you two manage to get with one another and move in together, I can get free pastries whenever I come over-”

Harry shoved him, laughing. “Asshole.”

Ron shrugged. “You don’t see me denying it, do you?”

Harry looked to him, the conversation going back onto a serious note. “Ron, but what about the papers? What will happen if words gets out and they start going after him―?”

“Harry, I know you too well to know that you wouldn’t hesitate to protect him. In fact, you might even send a hex at the first person who’d dare try to attack Malfoy ― you would be the one yelling and making a scene in the street. Besides, if we’re able to put aside how we feel about him for your happiness, and if the others care like they said, they then should as well. Fuck what they have to say!” Ron yelled. “Really Harry, they _don’t_ even matter. Plus,” Ron leaned over the counter, “Don’t tell anyone I said this but Pansy told me one day that someone tried to walk up to her and harass her about the war, and that Draco picked up a pipe out back and smacked them over the side of the head with it.”

“He did that?”

“Loads more, she told me, and not just with that guy. Long story short, he’s capable of handling himself ― and not just with magic; muggle ways as well.”

“On one hand, that terrifies me but on the other I kind of like it.”

Ron gave a snort of a laugh. “Harry. _Talk_ to him.” He held out his fist, raising a brow.

Harry laughed and shook his head. He bumped Ron’s fist with his own. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.”

 

* * *

 

 **MOST OF THE LIGHTS HAD GONE OUT IN THE STREET BY THE TIME THE LAST FEW CUSTOMERS LEFT THE SHOP.** Harry waved to them and continued to sweep the floors until they disappeared down the street, humming along with the jukebox as he swept.

It’d been another busy day at the shop. If Ron asked, Harry would’ve blamed this for the reason why it’d been months and he still hadn’t talked to Draco. Though, to be fair, Draco hadn’t stopped by and talk to him either, so in a way, both would’ve been at fault for this. Harry hadn’t went by the pastry shop like he usually did, and no matter how early he woke up, he no longer saw Draco walk by the shop. Harry would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t miss seeing Draco, but he didn’t want to force Draco to talk to him. That'd certainly ruin the steady friendship they had going, and Harry would rather nothing happen between them than lose Draco’s friendship.

_Speaking of Draco..._

Harry stopped sweeping and looked back at the door.

_Maybe if he waited another minute…_

_No._

_Still no sign of Draco._

Harry sighed and pushed down his feelings, setting about closing up the rest of the shop. He’d already got the majority of it done, and with a few more walks around the shop, he’d be done and could finally home ― alone, but he’d be going home, nonetheless.

Just as he’d locked up the register and was moving off behind the counter, Harry heard a voice.

“I don’t suppose you know where I could get a latte this late around these parts?”

_That sounded like―_

Harry’s head immediately shot up at the familiar voice, and a grin spread across his face as he caught sight of the signature white-blond hair. Draco was leaned up against the doorway with a side smirk. Today, he was dressed in a white button up: the ends of it were tucked into the insides of black slacks.

“Don’t think so,” Harry answered absentmindedly.

“That’s unfortunate. I was hoping to get something to _quench_ my thirst. Know what I mean?”

“More than you know,” Harry replied then blushed once he realized that he had not, in fact, said that in his head. “S-sure. Come in.” Draco gave a titter of a laugh, and Harry knew that his own face had burst out into flames at this point. “I meant―” Harry caught Draco trying to hold back his laughter from behind his hand, the crinkles around his eyes revealing this. Harry gave up trying to save his slip-up. “The place is still open.”

“Good.” The heels of Draco’s ankle boots clicked against the wood flooring as he crossed the shop, nearing towards the counter.  “Sorry for arriving so late. I know my visit took so long to happen, I just couldn’t find the right moment to do so.”

"Don’t worry about it. You’re here now, yeah?” Harry moved back behind the counter and grabbed a cup. “Here for a drink or latte?” he asked.

Draco shook his head. “For a latte.” He gave a small wave. “I don’t consume alcohol much.” He directed his eyes up at the sign above, and Harry couldn’t help but to notice Draco’s face of thought: how he’d bit his bottom lip and give a little hum, brows furrowing together as his eyes read over whatever he was trying to read. Draco looked focused, like how one would look while working on paperwork, or examining files at a meeting. All he needed was a pen behind his ear, and the scene was set. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. _Draco looked even more attractive liked this._

“A Miel Latte, if you don’t mind?” Draco took a seat at the counter. “You sell it, don’t you?”

Harry just barely caught Draco’s words. He’d been so busy staring. Draco had looked better than he’d seen him last week, or even a month ago and Ron was right, he  _was_ pathetic with all the staring―

“We do, yeah.” Harry cleared his throat. “It just isn’t very often we have someone order it.” Harry didn’t miss Draco’s proud smile, so he continued. “Guess we’ll have to call it Malfoy’s Miel.”

“Not unless you want it to be taken down by popular demand,” Draco muttered under his breath, but Harry caught his blush.

“I wouldn’t care if the entire shop wanted it taken down,” Harry told him. “It’d stay up.” Draco looked up at him, and for a moment, Harry thought Draco realized that he wasn’t just talking about the latte.

Draco reached out and touched Harry’s arm. “Harry―”

“I’ll be back,” Harry muttered and turned off, going into the kitchen. His hands shook as he made Draco’s order. _Damn!_ Things would’ve been perfect, that moment would’ve went right had Harry not panicked. He’d felt his heartbeat pick up the moment Draco touched him, and as cliche as sounded, he literally felt a spark course through him.

Repeating to himself that the moment was gone, Harry returned with Draco’s order a few minutes later. Draco sat at the counter, head propped up with his hand but upon seeing Harry, he perked up. “You’re back.”

“Surprised?”

“Yes, actually.” Draco took the drink from Harry, giving it a minute to cool. “For a minute, thought I scared you away.”

“No. That...that was all on me,” Harry said, miserably reminding himself.

“Gods, this smells so good…” Harry forced himself to keep upright as Draco rolled his eyes and let out a moan as he took a sip of the latte. Harry dug his nails into the palm of his hand as he felt more blood rush to his erection. Merlin, was he thankful he was wearing an apron. “Oh!” Draco took another sip, voice muffled slightly by the foam cup, “this tastes even better.”

“Glad to hear,” Harry forced out, willing away his erection. “I always aim to please the customer.”

“Is that so?” Draco leaned forward, then stopped, scanning over Harry's face.  Harry tried not to let his disappointment show too much the minute Draco sat back and turned away from him. “Your taste in music isn’t shitty, I see,” Draco commented in his usual drawl.

“Such a surprise, isn't it?" Harry replied in his usual sarcastic tone.

“Indeed. Especially in the way you dress―”

“―Watch it,” Harry warned, a playful tone underlying his voice.

Draco held up his hands in feigned surrender, grinning as he caught Harry’s eye.

Harry knew from past moments that this was Draco’s cue to him keep the conversation going. Draco would always bring up something relevant to the current situation, then wait for Harry to go on.

Harry searched his brain for a moment. “Bet you can’t guess which is my favorite drink off the menu.”

Draco looked confused, but he soon caught on. “Bet I can,” He sneered.

Harry scoffed. “Alright then. Guess. If you get it right, then your _second_ drink is free.”

Draco pursed his lips, scrutinizing Harry. “You look like a…. white chocolate mocha type of guy.”

Harry blinked. Draco had guessed right. “How did you―?”

There was a funny twinkle in Draco’s eyes. “How did I know _what_ , Potter?”

Harry continued to stare at him, unsure of he was supposed to be amazed or angry. “That―you―how?”

“Oh, stop sputtering, Potter, and get me my second drink.” He tipped his cup forward to show Harry the inside of his close-to-empty drink, “I’m nearly done with this one.”

Harry grumbled.

“Ah, what was that?"

“I said I hope you choke.”

Draco chuckled, then took another sip of his drink, mouth lingering on the straw. “I hope I choke too.”

Harry gave a not-so-heartfelt huff and turned back into the kitchen. “Here’s your promised drink.” He slid the drink over to Draco a few minutes later, who in return, slid over his empty cup.

“About time.” Draco took a sip like before but quickly pulled back away from his cup, coughing violently.

Harry’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You did this on purpose!” Draco accused, pointing a finger at Harry.

“Did what?”

“You made this extra hot on purpose!”

“I didn’t―” Harry paused, “―Oh, no, I didn’t do that. The lattes are always that hot. You just didn’t wait for it to cool like last time.” Harry smirked. This was Draco’s Karma.  “Merlin doesn’t like the wicked, you know, Malfoy.”

“Well, he mustn't like you for this wicked act you’ve done onto me!”

Harry laughed a Draco’s tendency to be overdramatic, but a part of him was actually concerned. It didn’t last for long, however, the moment Draco picked up his latte and began drinking again. “You can stay here while I clean up, if you want,” Harry told him a few minutes later.

“Are you sure? I can leave if it’s necessary―” Draco’s eye caught something and he stopped talking. “Are these the waffles you ordered earlier?” He pointed to the recently abandoned plate on the counter.

“Yeah, I reheated those a little bit before you came in.”

“Make another Miel Latte,” Draco said.

“You haven’t even finished the one you have now―”

“Not for me, _Potter._ For _you_.” Draco reached into his pocket and took out a small purple pouch, withdrawing several coins from it. He leaned over the counter, and dropped them into Harry’s apron pocket. “No more questions until you get back. Now, go.”

When Harry returned back with the drink, Drac took it from him and placed it down on the counter. He unrolled a napkin, and took out the utensils inside of it. Draco took the knife and fork and began to cut one of the waffles. Lifting up the fork, Draco fed Harry a piece. He picked up the latte and gave it to Harry, patiently waiting for his reaction.

“How did you know these would be so good together?” Harry moaned not even a second later, covering his mouth so food wouldn’t spill out.

“This is what I eat for breakfast in the mornings. I...figured you’d like it as well.”

Harry couldn’t imagine living with Draco, and eating stuff like this for breakfast. Well, actually, he could but he tried not to so much. He knew that hat he’d never get to experience waking up next to Draco in the mornings and being fed breakfast by him.

 _That will never happen, Harry,_ he reminded himself.

A few minutes later, halfway done with his own drink, Draco quickly glanced up at Harry. “So I was actually wondering if you could come over…” Draco turned his head to the wall at his left as he let out a little cough, a tinge of pink dusting along his cheeks. “Of course, that is _after_ you close up shop, and if you even _want_ to.”

Harry stopped sweeping and looked at him. “Are you asking me over?”

“No,” Draco deadpanned, meeting his eyes yet again. “I was asking your coffee machine if it’d like to come back with me. I’ve had my eye on it since the minute I came in here, and thought, _‘Oh, I have to take it home with me.’_ ”  
  
Harry caught onto the sarcasm and played along. “My coffee machine doesn’t like to go out of the shop much. I brought it home and it fucked my entire counter.” He gestured to it. “Been here since.”

“Unfortunate.”

“ _Tragic,_ really.”

The two continued to stare at one another, but then they burst out laughing, shoulders bouncing as they did so.

_“Idiot.”_

“Says the one interested in a _coffee machine_ ,” Harry shot back, grinning.

Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry could see his mouth upturning into a small side smile. “I’ll be over at my shop if you still accept my invite.” He picked up his cup and left the shop with only a mere glance back.

Not even a second after Draco turned the corner, Harry yanked off his apron. It got caught in his hair, and caused his glasses to tilt on his face. Harry tugged it off and ran past the counter. He stumbled around the place, bumping and tipping chairs, as he struggled to hurry and close the shop. He cast a cleaning charm on the sink: whatever he didn’t get to wash, the sink would do it.

Harry looked around the shop. Everything else looked in place. _Good._

Harry flicked the lights out, and locked up the place Muggle style, the key shaking in his hand. By the time he made it down the sidewalk and arrived at Knead for Sweets, Harry was out of breath. He stood up against the doorway and panted, catching his breath. No longer feeling the previous pressure in his chest, Harry entered the shop.

“So you _did_ decide to come over.” The voice came from behind the counter.

“Yeah.” Harry scanned over Draco: how he sat back comfortably behind the counter, feet outstretched in the space beside him, and both hands behind his head. “Looks like you were waiting for me,” he commented with a slight smirk.

Draco scoffed. “Oh, please. I wait for _no one._ But did I hope you would arrive and hold up your end of our agreement?” Draco stood, dusting himself off. “Yes.” He gestured to his side. “Care to follow me into the kitchen, Harry?”

Harry followed him, the silence soon making him feel awkward. “So, uh, how did you get here? Get into baking, I mean.” Harry averted his eyes from the wall.

“Well, my mother baked a lot when I was younger.” Draco smiled, but it was more to himself. “She would always bake these little treats for me. Of course, the house-elves made things for me, but I loved my Mother’s the most.” He paused, then laughed. “I remember when I was sick ― and since my name meant ‘dragon’― she would open my bedroom door with a tray full of dragon-shaped cookies and a glass of milk. She’d change the treats and their themes depending on the occasion, but that was one of my favorites. Going back to what you asked: When I got older, I began helping her. This,” Draco gestured to the shop, “is the result.”

Harry nodded. “I always thought you’d go into the Potions field.”

Draco didn’t speak for a moment. Then, “I wanted to...but it never quite worked out, you know? It kept turning back to the War. _Everything_ did. ” Draco looked off and Harry could see that it pained him to think back on the past. “I wanted to avoid that. If, to not forget it entirely, then to let the persistent thoughts of what I did hurt a bit less.”

It was clear from to Harry that Draco wanted to say more, but it seemed he couldn’t form the right words, so silence filled up the space between them as they continued to walk. Another moment passed, then, “How about you? Always thought you’d be an Auror or something similar.”

“So did everyone else.” Harry sighed, his eyes now focused on the checkered ground. “I wanted a break. From _all_ of it.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You already know that the War didn’t really end well for anyone. It didn’t end well for me, either. I just couldn’t―” Harry stopped, exhaling out deeply as he felt a familiar lump form in his throat.

“―I needed something to calm my nerves so I went out into the Muggle world, looking for something to do just that. I ended up getting hired at a coffee shop, and I did a pretty damn good job there. While I did have to remember a lot, it was fun. I mean, I got the basics down quickly, the staff and customers were nice, and I got a decent pay. Anyhow, when I returned, there just so happened to be a building wanting to be bought and owned. So I said, _‘Why the hell not?’ ,_ I bought it, then I turned it into a coffee shop. That’s pretty much it.”

Harry grew quiet, hoping Draco wouldn’t ask anymore.

Draco didn’t ask any more questions, but he stopped walking. He nodded in front of Harry, and Harry turned to look at a doorway. “You can go ahead and go into the kitchen, or even the spare storage room. I’ll join you shortly.” Draco turned and went into the room on the other side of the wall.

“I didn’t mean to turn the conversation all dark, Draco―” Harry called after him.

“―Harry, I had an equal part in doing that. It’s fine.” He appeared back a few minutes later. “Let’s try to clear the air now, change the subject.” He guided Harry through the kitchen and into a large, storage room. Draco turned his back towards Harry and stepped out the room, and Harry feared for a moment that he was going to walk off again. Then, “I wasn’t able to bring all of these out to the counter today, but thankfully, they all have to be refrigerated and stored away before serving anyway so it isn’t like I’m giving my customers stale treats.” Draco turned back around with a long, silver tray.

Harry looked at him. “You just _happened_ to have these out?”

Draco took a seat on the counter in front of him. “Are you suggesting, Potter, that I purposely placed these away for you?”

Harry sat back. “It sure seems like it.”

“Well, think again, Potter. I really wasn’t able to bring these out during business hours. Now, you can either shut up and enjoy them, or keep being a prat and starve.” Draco crossed his arms, giving him a look. “Your choice.”

“I think I’ll settle for eating, thanks.”

“Good choice. Now, anything in specific you’re in the mood for?” Draco questioned, leaning back on the counter.

_You._

Harry had to choose his words carefully. “I’m a bit, uh, indecisive...H-How about you?”

Draco glanced at the tray. “Perhaps only a few things. Now, what I _really_ want,” Draco chuckled, gaze directed at the wall next to him, “I can’t _have_ at the moment.”

Harry frowned. “Why, the place already closed?”

“No. I’m looking for something t _hicker_ ,” Harry silently shuddered at Draco’s emphasis on the word. “ _Hot._ _Heavy_. Something that’ll _ease_ right down but can still satisfy my need. Know what I mean?” Draco reached beside him and picked something up. “An eclair.”

“You meant…?”

“Yes.” Draco rose a brow. “What _else_ did you think I was referring to?”

Harry bit his lip. “N-nothing.”

“Okay, then." He eyes Hary with a strange look. "Good.”

“So, uh, what flavor ― I’m guessing those have a flavor ― is the eclair?” Harry asked him.

“It’s a butterbeer-cream eclair with a salted-caramel ganache.”

“With salted caramel  ― _what?”_

“Salted-caramel ganache." Draco scoffed, “If you don’t already know, then I can’t explain it to you.” He shook his head and took a bit out of the eclair. “This is _wonderful!"_ He exclaimed through a mouth-full.

“Brag about your own food, why don’t you?”

“If you’ll happen to know,” Draco began. “This is the only thing out of my bakery I’ve yet to try.” Harry sat quietly for the next minute, occasionally looked up at Draco. Draco cleared his throat, drawing Harry’s attention. “...Now, I bet you’re wondering why these specific eclairs have this shape, aren’t you? Well, uh, these are testers for an adult-line of treats we’re working on.” He sighed, brows furrowing in thought. “I was a bit skeptical but Pansy insisted.” He shook his head, grumbling. “She’s always doing shit.”

Harry laughed. Draco sounded like him whenever he complained about Ron. “So since it’s an adult line of treats, you shaped it into a…?”

“A _cock,_ Potter. I shaped an eclair into a _big,_ fat _cock_. Yes.” Draco chuckled. “We are adults, you know. It’s not like I’ll go run off and report you.”

Harry laughed, running a hand through his hair, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Alright, alright. Maybe I was a bit...immature about that.” Harry nodded towards the eclair. “Other than looking the part, is there anything else to it?”

“Well, Pansy believes that it could be used in…” Draco cleared his throat again, his cheeks burning bright red. “A bit more kinkier sex.”

“As in?” Harry asked, but he already knew the answer.

“She believes that it could be used as food during foreplay. Not only on the outside of the body, but _within._ ”

“You’re joking!” Harry barked in laughter.

“I am not.” Draco looked close to laughing himself but managed to contain it. “See, she thinks that the little opening at the eclair can be―” Draco cut himself off. “Let me demonstrate it myself. Give me a moment.”

Before Harry could even register what happened, there was a faint pop, and Draco pulled away from the eclair with a smirk. “ _This_ happens.” He showed Harry the opening of the eclair, where the thin cream oozed out, heavily resembling the aftermath of a wank. Draco then lapped up the cream, and Harry watched with fascination, unconsciously licking his lips. “That’s about it, really. Not like we’d actually add in any ‘surprises’ for the customers.”

“Hey, it might actually work out.”

“No. I’m not trying to go to court because someone accidentally dropped one on their lap, and it started vibrating. Not only would that be a heavy case, but I would be embarrassed for all of eternity.”

  
“Okay, now I see your point. They’re a bit realistic, yeah?” Harry met Draco’s eye. “Inspired by anything? Or more like _anyone?_ ”

There was a funny twinkle within Draco’s eyes. “It’s funny you ask that, _Harry._ ” Draco picked up a new eclair, eyeing it for a moment before he began to lick the glaze off the top of it, running his tongue to the tip of the treat. He took it into his mouth soon after his lips met, and Harry couldn’t help but to watch as it disappeared in. Draco’s lips pursed and he slid the uneaten part out, nibbling on a small piece he managed to bite off. “Quite funny _indeed._ ”

“Why?” Harry asked, feeling a bulge beginning to grow and press harder into the front of his jeans. His eyes were trained on Draco, who was now licking cream off the fingers of his sticky hand, his long tongue curling around and darting in between the spaces. Harry watched as it flicked to the corner of his mouth to gather up one last bit of the filling of the eclair before retreating back behind the seams of his lips.

 _“Oh.”_ Draco looked up, almost as if suddenly remembering Harry was in the room with him. Or at least that’s what Harry would’ve _thought,_ had he not seen the smug look directed over at him, or the bulge tenting out the crisp, black pants. Draco feigned a look of innocence, biting on his lips. “Because it was based off of yours.”

The words were spoken softly but had a great effect, especially on Harry’s lower region.

“You haven’t even―”

“―I don’t need to see your cock to know it’d be a marvelous sight, Potter.”

Harry could only wonder at this point how those pretty little fingers would look wrapped firmly around his cock as Draco pulled him off, how his head would look as it bobbed up and down as he sucked Harry to an intense orgasm, or how his skilled tongue would play with his slit before Harry took a firm grasp of his hair and―

Harry closed his eyes and bit back a groan at the overwhelming image, immediately closing his legs as he felt a drip of pre-come leak out and dissolve into the front of his boxers. “I don’t think you caught it accurately,” he heard himself utter lowly.

“Is that _so_?” Draco sounded amused.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out, opening his eyes. “I look nothing, absolutely _nothing_ like that.” He began to palm himself through his jeans, no longer caring about the consequences: He was _hard._

A thoughtful expression crossed over Draco’s face. “I would take that as an insult but I’m rather... _curious._ It looks nothing like the real thing, you say?” His eyes flickered down to Harry’s moving hand. “Well, I consider this a professional place, and I couldn’t _possibly_ be a professional if my creations were inaccurate.” He met Harry’s eye with an unnerving look. “Mind if I take a look at the subject up close?”

Harry swallowed. He pressed the palm of his hand against the front of his jeans harder, feeling his cock twitch. “A-are you asking me to―?”

“Not for any favors, Potter. A mere simple request. That is, if you want to. If not, then it’s perfectly fi―”

“No, it’s―” Harry shook his head. He didn’t trust himself to continue that sentence. His hands flew down to the front of his jeans shakily, but he unable to calm his excited nerves. Harry didn’t care of how he looked. He was focused on Draco, on how those grey eyes watched him intensely, how he licked his lips as Harry’s long and jutting erection emerged before his eyes. Harry was so focused on him that he didn’t even notice his hand as it unconsciously snaked back down to his cock.

 _“Fuck.”_ It was Draco who spoke. He sucked in a harsh breath, pushing himself off the counter. “Touch yourself.”

“What?”

“Touch yourself,” Draco croaked, “while I watch.”

Harry’s mind reeled. In another scenario, he would’ve bolted out at the suggestion that he openly wank himself. It was something he did in his bedroom with the lights off, with Silencing Charms cast on the walls so the neighbors wouldn’t hear him crying out Draco’s name every other night as he came over his sheets. However, with most of his fantasies consisting of Draco, and to actually have him standing there, watching him as he got himself off―

Harry tipped his head back, giving one long stroke up, then down. He pulled and tugged on his sac with his other hands, breath hitching.

“S-slow down,” he heard Draco say a minute later. “You’re beginning to edge, I can tell.”

Harry did as he was told, whimpering slightly. Slowing down only intensified the feeling. His body has never trembled this hard before, with every touch sending shocks throughout his body. His hand was slick now, not only with pre-come but with the sweat on his hand. Draco was undoing him, and Draco hadn’t even touched him.

Draco inaudibly moaned, biting down on his lip as he continued to watch Harry. “You have _no_ idea the things I want to do you, Potter.” He completely removed himself away from the counter.

Harry’s eyes flew to him, and his hand stopped.

“Why the look of surprise? You never thought I heard your little mutters every time you walked in here?” Draco chuckled, walking towards Harry in long and calculated strides, not missing the way Harry eyed the way his hips moved from side to side. “Oh, Potter. I did. _Every_ single one of them, and might I say: you have one _filthy_ mouth.”

“I knew from the minute you stepped in here that you didn’t come in here for treats. That it is was _me_ you were here for. It was a good thing I could see you watching me from the window every morning.” Draco chuckled as Harry’s eyes widened. He stepped in front of him.  
  
Harry felt one smooth hand slip underneath his shirt and slowly travel down his chest, passing his crotch then coming back up to tease at the waistband that hung low on Harry’s hips.

“So now that it’s all been revealed, tell me: how did your fantasies of me play out? Did you ever imagine my hands wrapped around your cock, pulling you off? Did you imagine hoisting me up against the wall by my arse as you impale me, with me howling your name as I came? Or even me bent over a counter as you had your way with me? Did you fantasize about me on my knees and sucking you off? Or―”

Draco pressed his chest against Harry’s, looking down into his eyes as he stepped in closer. “Was it all three? I hope the answer is all three, because I’d really hate it if I was the only one who wanked off to those thoughts at night.”  

Harry bit down on his lip. He was painfully hard, and if Draco didn’t shut up, he would come right then and there. His cock continued to thrum in his hand, and Harry knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Draco chuckled. “You get off on that, _don’t_ you?” he whispered, eyes gleaming brightly with lust. “I finger myself until my toes are locked into a permanent curl, nothing but your name rolling off my tongue as I thrust into the air above.”

“Shut up.”

“Thank Merlin silencing charms were invented or else I’d have been kicked out my home _long_ ago.”

“I-I don’t want to hear―”

“―You do it too.”

“You have no proof.”

“You’ve been pining after me for the past month, I _know_. Guess what?” Draco tugged on Harry’s belt loop, pulling him closer until they were pressed chest to chest against one another. “I can proudly say that the feeling is mutual.”

“Good to hear.”

Draco crouched down and pushed Harry's jeans down completely, casting them aside as Harry stepped out of them. Draco stood back up. “Why is this such a good thing, Potter?”

Harry didn’t answer the question. He pulled Draco in, kissing him deeply, putting everything he couldn’t say out loud into that kiss.

Draco pulled back to breathe. “Don’t stop,” he reminded Harry, moving Harry's hand back down until he wanking himself again. Draco ghosted his lips over Harry’s throat, feeling Harry’s body tremble. “Like it when I do this?” Harry nodded and gave another tug at his own cock. "Can I do more?”

There was a playful tone to his voice with each question, but the grey eyes continued to gleam deviously.

Soon, Draco’s hands were everywhere. _Draco_ was everywhere, and gods, did Harry love it.

“―you like how many hands feel? You like my fingers too? Or would you prefer I do something else with them?” Draco’s hands treaded lower. “I always wondered how these fingers would be inside you.” His breath was hot against Harry’s neck, his soft lips pressing against it and closer to Harry’s ear with each murmur. “Bet it’d feel fucking good.” Draco ran his hands down Harry’s sides as he spoke, his fingers curling around his hips before finally settling his hands on Harry’s lower back, allowing a few fingers to spring out, slip past his arse and tease at the puckering hole below. Draco pressed his evident erection up against Harry’s left hip and rolled his own hips as he continued his slew of filthy promises.

A violent heat had broken out onto Harry’s skin at this point.

He heard the zip of Draco’s pants as they were undone and Harry immediately placed the flat of his free hand against Draco’s cock, his palm curving up against the head as he began to rub the aroused shaft. Draco gasped, his cock giving an appreciative twitch in response. Harry stroked up and down, giving a small twist as he neared the head.

Draco shot him a glare. “Bastard,” he spat, then shuddered as Harry gave his cock another small twist.

Harry wouldn’t forget Draco’s face in his moment. How tightly he held onto Harry, tipping his head back as he let out a moan, or how he bit back his lip to prevent one from sounding out. Draco continued to grind himself against Harry’s hand, and from the grip he had on him, Harry knew he was close.

Just when he was certain of it, just when he’d prepared to feel Draco come over his hand, he felt a finger press against then into his hole. A noise, so _unlike_ Harry left his lips, and with a harsh cry, Harry tipped his head back.

Draco suddenly sunk to his knees, reaching forward. He flicked his tongue at the pearl of pre-come gathering at Harry’s slit, humming as Harry took hold of his head. Harry bucked his hips forward. Draco tongued back the tight foreskin, swiping over the underside before angling his mouth to the side, his mouth retreating back up in small little sucks as he inhaled Harry entirely. Harry's hand tightened painfully in Draco’s scalp.

“ _Draco._ ” Harry said it, not to encourage him, but to warn him. Harry’s cheeks clenched and he felt a familiar tightening in his balls.

Draco’s cheeks, though hallowed out, were flooded with color. Seemingly knowing that Harry was staring at him, Draco looked up. His eyes, once a shining grey, were now wide and full of lust; with only a half crescent of silver remaining. That was all it took before Harry was shooting hot white down Draco’s throat, thrusting into his mouth.

Harry let go of Draco’s hair with a long sigh. He couldn’t believe it. While Draco had sucked him off, and Harry more than enjoyed it, he was concerned about how he’d pulled on Draco’s hair and came in his mouth. Harry had tried to warn him, but knowing Draco, he could turn the blame onto Harry in seconds, and use this as a reason to yell and argue with him. Draco was going to kill him for this, Harry just _knew_ ―

“Trying to choke me to death, are you?” Draco’s voice was hoarse, and he gave Harry a harsh look, but there was a smirk on his lips as he wiped off the remaining come with the back of his hand. “What do you want me to do next?”

Harry’s chest heaved up and down. He was confused, angry, and aroused. “Get up.”

“Be more specific when you order me around, _Potter.”_

“Get up, and I want you to bend over that counter.”

“I know you have _more_ to say, Potter.”

“I want your _legs_ spread out as far they can go, and I want your _ass_ so high up in the air that your toes are straining to keep you up.”

Draco rose up from his knees. “That’s _much_ better.”

Harry swiftly caught Draco in another kiss, their teeth clanking against one another. He grasped Draco’s hips in one hand, and walked them to the other side of their room, lips still locked. A thud echoed, and Harry felt Draco groan against his mouth as his back collided with the secondary counter behind them. Harry snuck a hand underneath his shirt, rubbing the injured spot in apology before guiding it down and pushing into the silk fabric surrounding Draco’s arse.

Draco bit down on his lip in response, and Harry groaned as a taste of iron reached his tongue. He pulled back, swiping up the blood off of his lips before turning his attention back onto Draco. “Turn around, and do as I said,” he commanded, eyes burning bright with lust. Draco did as he was told, taking his time as he stepped out of his perfectly-ironed pants and shimmied out of his black, skin-tight satin briefs. He then turned around pressed himself against the counter, his cock leaking onto the handle of the low cabinet as he bent himself over it. “Like this?”

Harry groaned at the sight. He stepped forward and took the globes of Draco’s ass into his hands, kneading them in his thick hands. “ _Exactly_ like that.”

Harry leaned down and trailed kisses up and down Draco’s body, leaving an occasional hickey on his hip, his neck, or on his rib. If Draco was only his for tonight, then Harry was going to mark every bit of him until there was no other place left. Harry had crouched down and lowered himself behind Draco.

He could still see Draco's cock leaking on the counter, and he could see his body trembling up above him. Harry leaned up and pressed a kiss up against Draco’s hole.

Draco screamed and lost his balance for a moment, but gained it back once Harry placed a steady hand on his lower back.  “Didn’t mean to scare you with that. I just thought it’d be a―” There were voices floating somewhere outside the door. Harry could hear them, he wasn’t sure if they were in the kitchen or at the front of the shop, but he and Draco weren’t the only people there.

“―There’s someone out there,” Harry whispered, and stood up. He angled himself so he was shielding Draco. The voices were beginning to sound closer, but Harry already had about ten different spells sitting on his tongue in case they broke in.

Draco froze, and he too turned towards the door. “You sure?”

“Yeah. The shop’s locked up, though, isn’t it?”

“...I _wasn’t_ joking when I said I hadn’t closed up shop yet...”

“You didn’t―!”

“No, now _keep your voice down!”_ Draco hissed. “So what if someone’s really out there? I don’t care. At least not anymore. Now, _move._ ”

Harry swallowed, eyes flickering to the door. “While they’re right outside?”

“ _Yes._ ” Draco placed his hands against the counter and leaned back down against it, shuddering as he met the cool surface. He then switched to holding his body up with his hands to holding them up with his elbows, spreading his legs out a bit wider behind him in the process. “They shouldn’t be so _nosy._ Think it’s alright to just _waltz_ up in here, without even bothering to check if the place is _actually_ open. Well,” Draco jutted his ass out further and pushed back against Harry’s hand, letting out a soft moan, “let’s teach them a lesson, yeah?”

Harry had a feeling that this was not only to make a scene, for a personal benefit as well, but he wasn’t going to be the idiot who complains about it. “You’re being _entirely_ serious about this, aren’t you?” His voice came out calm and steady, and his other hand remained still on Draco’s hips, but it was taking everything in him to hold back from spreading Draco impossibly wide against the counter and fucking him senseless until the whole entire street heard him screaming Harry’s name in pleasure.

“Almost too serious for my own good,” he heard Draco reply faintly, sounding a bit breathless.

Harry licked his lips. “Could I possibly...?” he let his fingers do the rest of the talking, skirting them across Draco’s balls before allowing them to travel down to rub his perineum, “do something along that while I’m at it?” he asked, beginning to stroke and trace Draco’s rim, watching how it caused muscles in his back to visibly tense.

Draco gave a little whine and leaned back further into his touch. “O-only if you can breech the entrance,” he answered. “Do you - _uhh_ \- happen to have any lube?”

“Pre-come,” Harry breathed, “D-do you think that could work as lube?”

“Lube isn’t necessarily that gel-stuff you purchase in a store, Potter. It’s basically anything that could...that could slick an entrance up. So yes, you could it. Just make sure you have plenty of it before doing anything,” Draco told him.

Harry widened his stance, standing still for a moment before the hand that was playing with Draco switched to his own cock. Harry rubbed up and down his shaft, bunching his hand into a fist whenever it appeared at the head.  After a bit longer, he picked up the pace. Taking two shaky steps back, Harry aimed. Draco sighed as a stream of precome showered his lower back, dribbling down and into the crack of his ass. Harry dipped his fingers in it, and spread it around, trailing it down as he lubed up all the necessary places, and though excited, Harry took his time. “Let me know what hurts and what feels good, yeah?” Draco gave a rushed nod and braced himself against the counter, propping himself up on his forearms.

Harry bit his lip in concentration as he lowered his hand and pressed his dripping fingers against Draco’s pink and puckered hole, indulging in the warm heat that soon encased them, and reveling in Draco’s gasp of surprise that soon broke off into a small cry. Unsure of whether or not his fingers were supposed to enter in his first attempt, Harry quickly withdrew and replaced his fingers with the pad of his thumb in an attempt to massage and further relax the ring of muscles. He moved his thumb as gently as he could, focussing on spreading moisture further out onto the wrinkly part of his skin. Harry’s eyes widened as his thumb, too, slipped inside the slicked-up hole. Harry had never done this before — not to himself, nor to Ginny.

Not only that, Draco’s lack of communication didn’t help Harry’s growing nerves.

_“You’re doing fine. Keep going, Harry.”_

Harry relaxed at these words, growing more comfortable with the feeling and even beginning to move faster. Harry alternated between shallow slides and deep pressure, twisting and curling his fingers at angles that caused Draco to sink lower onto Harry’s fingers. An incoherent sound broke loose from Draco’s mouth and he trembled against the counter.

“You okay?”

“Yes. It’s just―” Draco rolled his hips, letting out a long moan. “ _Oh. “_ He bit down on his lip, eyes fluttering shut. “You have _no_ idea how good this feels. I wish you could _feel_ how good this is making me _feel―!_ ”

 _Draco looked beautiful like this,_ Harry thought as his eyes raked down the body before him, bent over the counter with Harry fingering him from behind, spread out against the counter, leaking onto the wooden cabinets below. Harry wouldn’t trade this sight for anything else in the world.

Feeling his wrist begin to ache, Harry gave Draco his all. He tightened his grip on Draco’s waist and fingered him violently with the other: his own body beginning to move and tremble at the pace of Draco’s bouncing arse.

_“H-Harry!”_

With a gentle flick of Harry’s wrist against the head of his cock, the spring coil wrapped inside Draco’s stomach spun undone as Draco gave out a broken scream and came in violent, hot pulses. Harry kept focusing on the wrist of his hand as Draco came down from his climax. He watched as the long, white strips of come slid down his wrist, disappearing between his fingers and dripping onto the floor below them.

_“Gods, yes!”_

Draco whipped his head around and seized Harry by his hair; his fingers burying and twisting into the mess of hair before pulling Harry into a deep, passionate kiss; consisting more of teeth than actual lips but Harry enjoyed it regardless. Draco’s lips were red and swollen by the time he pulled away, a good minute later. Harry took pride in knowing he caused that.

“You’re still hard.” Harry felt Draco’s hand reach down between his parted legs and run across the still-protruding erection to further prove his point. He met Harry’s eye. “Let me get you off,” he whispered, brushing his lips gently across Harry’s. Harry returned the feather of a kiss, then turned Draco back around to face the counter. He folded himself over Draco’s back as he allowed himself to drown in pleasure, with Draco jacking him off in rapid, smooth motions, the room filling with harsh pants.

Harry buried his head into the crook of Draco’s neck as he came some few minutes later, muffling his moans into his skin, fingers digging into Draco’s hips as he continued to rut his cock into the open hand below, his movements slowing as he emptied himself out. Harry trailed kisses down from Draco’s neck down his spine as he recovered from his orgasm, flinching slightly as he caught sight of the marks his fingers had left on Draco’s skin and of the vivid outline of his mouth around the scattered hickies.

“Are you okay?”

Draco’s hair tickled his nose as he sat up. “I’m fine. Just….are you sure you’ve never done that before? At all? I mean, I’m a mess right now, Potter.” Harry laughed a breathless laugh and hoisted Draco onto the counter.

“Harry.”  Harry met his Draco’s eye ― just in time to catch him licking his come from his fingers.   _His come,_ Harry thought with a shudder. Draco withdrew the last of his fingers from his mouth. “You taste better than eclairs,” He whispered, licking the remainder from his lips.

Harry groaned and lowered his head down to Draco’s neck, his tongue running down against the smooth skin before dipping down into his collarbone, licking gingerly before sucking the pale skin into his mouth. Harry felt Draco arch his back and dig his nails into the back of his shoulders. Harry ran his fingers down the dip of Draco’s back in response, smiling to himself as he heard the shudder of surprise ring out against his ear. Draco’s fingers continued to rake and tangle through the messy black hair as Harry nibble and suck on the sensitive parts of his neck.

Draco hands shook as he fumbled with Harry’s shirt, eventually pulling it over his head and casting it onto the floor. Harry’s glasses clattered as they fell, but all Harry needed to see was right in front of him.

Harry took him into another heated kiss, but Draco slowly pulled away to catch a much-needed breath. He panted in the space between them. “As much as I’m enjoying this…”Draco began, gently pushing Harry back. Harry picked up on the sign and moved his body away, leaning his forehead against Draco’s as he attempted to gather his own ability to breathe. “I’d _much_ rather wait until we’re back home.”

Harry blinked, his mind still racing. “Home?”

 _“Home,”_ Draco repeated, anger seeping in the end of his sentence, his grey eyes cutting daggers as they swiftly turned onto Harry. He sat up and leaned back, looping his arms around Harry’s neck.  “As in your place?” he went on, raising a brow, irritation alive in his voice. ”Or did you not come back here with the intention of taking me back to your place tonight? I surely hope you don’t take me for a fool, Harry Potter.”

Harry could only blink in return, mouth gaping open and closed. “I…” Harry closed his mouth, the words that he needed unable to properly form and come out.

That had been his intention for the past month or so, to take Draco home. On Merlin’s beard, Harry had dreamed of it for ages. He dreamed of how the moment would go: how he could take Draco back, kissing him until he was breathless before taking him upstairs and, with consent, bringing to life the wet dreams that he constantly woke up from. Harry wanted this more than anything...he just didn’t expect things to work out in his favor for once. Yet, Draco was practically handing himself over to Harry.

“Home, then,” he replied after a moment, his heart warming at the grin that spread across Draco’s face.

“Good.” Draco patted Harry’s shoulders, then after a moment, ran a hand down Harry’s bare chest. “Oh,” he said, realizing he’d become distracted. Draco removed his hand, clearing his throat. “Now, it’ll take me a good minute to clean things up; both in here,” he waved vaguely around the room, and he and Harry shared a laugh, “and out there.”

“I don't mind.”

Harry joined Draco in re-dressing, tucking himself back into his boxers before pulling on his pants. Harry grabbed his coat, which was strewn on the floor, and shrugged it back on, digging his hands inside the pockets.

“I’ll help,” Harry offered, forcing his eyes to avert from the skin that peeked out from Draco’s waist as he bent over to straighten out his pant legs. With an effortless wave of his right hand, Harry restored the room to its previous appearance, the smell and sight of any remaining come or sweat disappearing from the counters, the floor, their hands, and even the air.

“Wandless magic…” Draco whispered. He stood to his full height, working on fastening the last buttons of his shirt. “You have no idea how attractive and in control you look while doing that.”

“I could say the same about you,” Harry said, stepping forward and giving Draco a short kiss.

“You can wait outside. I won’t be long.”

Harry nodded and gave Draco another kiss before leaving out the back door.

Most of the shops had closed up by the time Harry made it outside. He stopped right by the door, looking up at the sky. Harry smiled. The ombre orange of the setting sun and the black silhouettes of the building in the distance looked beautiful together. He leaned against the wall as he continued to watch, enjoying the purple clouds roll over the scene. A good minute later, Harry heard a faint ‘click’ before Draco took ahold of his hand, joining him at his side.

“That didn’t take long,” Harry remarked, looking at him.

“I told you I wouldn’t be.” Draco led Harry from the back of the shop, to the sidewalk at the front of the shop. They walked side by side in silence, nearing to the part of the sidewalk that dipped into the main street.

“This isn’t a one-time thing, is it?” The question was sudden.

Harry came to a sudden halt. “What?”

“This,” Draco gestured vaguely between them with his free hand. “This isn’t a one-night stand of some sort, is it? That we’ll head to your place tonight, but when morning comes, we’ll go our separate ways?”

“ _No._ No, of course - do you really think I’m the type to―?”

He frowned at Draco as they stood on the edge of the sidewalk. “Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” Harry looked down at the ground, his voice growing quiet. “Do you really think I’m that type of person, Draco?”

“No. Harry, I don’t believe you to be,” Draco began, then stopped his sentence entirely. He squeezed Harry’s hand gently. “I’m just making sure.”

“Making sure of what, exactly?”

“It’s just a bit hard to believe, is all.” Draco tucked a strand of hair behind his ear as he looked at the gravel ground. “ _Unexpected.”_ Draco stroked his thumb over Harry’s hand as he held it. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I fancy you, Harry. I fancy you a _lot._ That’s why I asked. To make sure that this wasn’t...wasn’t a fling. Now, I’m not saying this, any of it, to make you feel guilty if you had turned me down but―“

Harry cut the sentence short by stepping forward and catching Draco in a chaste kiss. He pulled Draco in close, keeping a gentle hold on his waist. “You’ve already noticed this, but I like you a lot as well. Had I turned you down, I’d have been an _absolute_ idiot.”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck. “You mean more than you already are?”

“I was _trying_ to have a moment with you, but you _clearly_ don’t want that.”

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled him in for another kiss. “I refuse to accept that as a truth,” Draco pulled away, “That you actually fancy me.”

“Best believe it, because it’s real. Why do you think I freaked out when you mentioned Ron stopped by and talked, huh?”

Draco laughed, its sound ringing out into the nighttime air. “I thought you meant that as in you were afraid he told me something embarrassing you’d done. That you didn’t want me to tease you with that.”

“No. Well, I would’ve freaked out over that, too, but no. I was afraid he’d gone ahead and told you…”

“That you fancied me?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratched the back of his neck, “Things would’ve been awkward after that. I could _only_ stop by, and we couldn’t joke like we usually do in the shop.”

“Potter. The _possible_ way things could’ve gotten _‘awkward’_ between us, was if _I_ stopped liking you. Then every time you came into the patisserie, all flustered and unable to look me in the eyes properly without stumbling over your words or blushing, I’d have given you _this_ look―”

Harry immediately identified it. “Oh. Your look of disinterest.” Harry shook his head, chuckling, “How could I forget that?”

Draco smiled. “You actually paid attention to it?”

“Well, I surely wasn’t looking at the _wall_ the entire time.”

Draco nuzzled his head into Harry’s neck. “I feel like you’re just agreeing with me to keep me in a good mood.”

“If my responses happen to be the right ones, then that’s what they are.” Harry laughed. “I can’t help that.”

Harry was about to suggest they head back before it got too late when his phone suddenly rang. He and Draco groaned in irritation. Draco unwrapped his arms from Harry’s neck, and Harry fished the ringing phone from his back pocket.

“Answer it.” Draco told him, and Harry met his eye. “That is, if you recognize the person calling. If not, ignore it.”

The caller ID read as _‘Ron’._ Harry accepted the call and raised it up to his ear, his other hand still holding onto Draco. _  
_

_“_ _Mate, you still coming over for dinner tonight?”_ Ron asked, and Harry could hear the sound of silverware clinking in the background. He suspected Ron and Hermione were setting the table.

“Dinner....” Harry repeated then trailed off, his eyes widening in sudden remembrance. He’d completely forgotten he’d promised Ron and Hermione earlier in the week that he’d stop by for dinner on the following Friday, which was today. Harry ran a hand through his hair, sighing as a good excuse failed to come up. “Listen, Ron, I completely forgot about that. I mean, it slipped my mind entirely. I got a bit,” he cleared his throat, “caught up today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to make it over tonight.”

_“Why not?”_

Draco watched Harry as he continued on with his phone call. _“Why can’t I make it over?”_ Draco heard Harry ask before he glanced over at him, a smirk sitting on his lips. “I got that order like you said, but it’s an order to go.”

“Well, don’t let _us_ interfere.” The call ended there, and Harry tucked his phone away.

An idea came to Harry's mind. "Hey Draco, did you bring those eclairs?”

“Oh, I most definitely brought them.” He turned onto Harry, “My tongue isn’t just talented with licking off frosting and creme, Potter.”

“I don’t doubt it, Malfoy.”

Harry pulled Draco against him, nibbling on the shell of his ear before pressing a kiss behind it. “I may not know how you like having sex, but I can _guarantee_ that your little fingers will have nothing, absolutely _nothing,_ against the feel of my cock as I pound into you tonight.”

Draco exhaled and leaned back into Harry who, in return, clutched the lower half of his ass and gave it a squeeze. “You know what I think, Potter? He tipped his head back, meeting Harry’s eye. “I think you’re feeding me empty promises.”

Harry curled one hand around Draco’s ribs, while his other hand dug into the flesh of Draco’s right hip. Harry thumbed over the hickey he had left there. Draco’s breath hitched. “I think you know me better than that, Malfoy.” Harry ran his lips across the sensitive spot on Draco’s neck, murmuring against it, the ridge of his cock pressed firmly against the dip of Draco’s back. “I think you know that I keep _all_ my promises.”

Draco made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “Potter, you have exactly five seconds to Apparate us home, or by Merlin’s beard, I’ll take you right here and now on the street,” He snarled.

Catching Draco in one last kiss, Harry spun on the spot and Apparated them to his place.

Thank _Merlin_ he lived alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/155369.html).


End file.
